


I wouldn't know where to start

by ladyofrosefire



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Communication, Fluff and Smut, M/M, fjordclay typical praise kink, light begging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23520922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofrosefire/pseuds/ladyofrosefire
Summary: “Too tight?” Caduceus asks.Fjord shakes his head. Then he sucks in a breath as Caduceus draws the knot closed. “I’m alright,” he promises immediately. “I’m—”“We’ll go slow,” smiling, Caduceus smoothes his hands down Fjord’s arms. “Just leave it to me.”Vulnerability is difficult, and Fjord has always struggled with it. With ropes, running from something he wants isn't an option.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Comments: 24
Kudos: 209





	I wouldn't know where to start

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you damoselmaledisant and notaficwriter for beta reading!

“Too tight?” Caduceus asks.

Fjord shakes his head. Then he sucks in a breath as Caduceus draws the knot closed. “I’m alright,” he promises immediately. “I’m—”

“We’ll go slow,” smiling, Caduceus smoothes his hands down Fjord’s arms. “Just leave it to me.”

That is the plan. What he’s trying to do. Fjord exhales slowly and looks down at where his wrists rest between them, secured in a pair of freshly-tied cuffs. He’d taught Caduceus that knot a few days ago sitting on crates and dodging the rest of their friends. Caduceus had shown no shame then, or when he explained what he thought they should do. The memory of the conversation makes Fjord’s stomach twist, although not unpleasantly.

“Arms above your head, dear.”

He hesitates. It’s ridiculous, of course; Caduceus will never hurt him. He is safe here, and all he has to do is say _stop,_ and they will do away with the ropes and anything else Fjord wants them to. But he still hesitates.

Caduceus, mercifully, only waits, rubbing a hand slowly back and forth against Fjord’s bare shoulder. The look in his eyes is too much, so Fjord avoids that, counting the boards in the ceiling and listening to the waves against the hull until he gathers the nerve to raise his arms above his head and lay his bound wrists against the headboard. For a moment, his breath catches. There are all his soft parts exposed, his chest and his stomach, only the thin linen of his shorts covering his cock. Which, of course, has taken an interest. _It_ recognizes that this is Caduceus and that the only things that are going to happen to them will be nice. More than nice.

But Caduceus does not move.

Caduceus’s nakedness does not help, either, not when he is so unselfconscious in it, and Fjord still wants to curl in on himself. He lifts his head a few degrees and blinks, a frown digging in between his eyes. “Caddy?”

“I need to hear you say it, Fjord.”

“Oh,” he swallows. “Uh, alright. Go ahead.”

Caduceus’ hand trails up his arm. “Are you sure?”

He starts to protest before he catches the gleam in Caduceus’ eye. Not mischief, but _knowing_ , and Fjord swallows a groan. “I’m sure. You can—you can tie my hands.”

“Thank you, Fjord,” Caduceus murmurs.

He presses a soft kiss to Fjord’s mouth, which Fjord tries unsuccessfully to chase. Then he sits up and deftly ties a hitch around one of the headboard slats. Fjord taught him that knot, too, just for this. The memory settles a little of the swooping in his stomach. So now, he has half a flock of seagulls instead of an army of the fucking things.

Fjord tugs against the rope cuffs and lets out a shaky moan.

“Oh, good,” Caduceus kisses him again, all warmth and soft lips. “That’s good. I like this. You look… You look wonderful, Fjord.” One large hand wanders to Fjord’s chest, calloused thumb rubbing over one nipple. “I’d like to take my time with you if that’s alright.”

He nods. And, again, Caduceus waits.

They discussed this, too, on the deck. And Fjord thought about it and turned it over in his mind and tried to imagine how he would feel. But imagining—he missed the mark when it came to imagining what it would feel like to beg. His chest tightens and squirms, and his stomach coils itself into a hard knot. Fjord twists against the sheets. But before he can turn his face, Caduceus catches it with a gentle hand cupped beneath his chin.

“Okay,” Fjord clears his throat. “Okay. Please.”

Caduceus hums a clear _that will do_ and squeezes Fjord’s pectoral. He rubs slow circles around and around Fjord’s nipples, strokes his chest, his sides. His stomach clenches. When he goes to flex, Caduceus presses the heels of both hands into his chest and drags then down. Fjord slumps with a low groan. His skin prickles all over.

“Cad—”

“Fjord?”

He bristles, although he knows better. “Take my shorts off? I’m a little… constrained here.”

With a soft huff, Caduceus unlaces the front of Fjord’s shorts and draws them carefully off his hips. He does it slowly and deliberately, fingers skimming the hard line of his cock with each drag of the string, the linen rubbing his skin on the way down. The exposure sinks in before he’s even naked. Fjord squirms under Caduceus’ hands, tugging again at the ropes. But Caduceus does not so much as touch him until he goes still again, tense and trembling where he lies. Then he lays his warm hands on Fjord’s thighs, running them up toward his hips.

“This is difficult,” he rumbles, “And I’m proud of you for asking for it.”

Fjord swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. He wants to argue, but Caduceus’ gaze is perfectly sincere and a little bit too direct. He coughs once and then wets his dry lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Caduceus replies easily.

He’s back to playing with Fjord’s nipples as if the way they peak under his touch is the most interesting thing he has ever seen. Fjord catches his lower lip between his teeth. Each brush of Caduceus’ fingers sends slow-curling pleasure spiraling down from his chest to knot up in his stomach, and the feeling only grows, strengthens. He wants to writhe and whine and to get his hands free and touch and be touched, and he—can’t. He won’t let himself.

“You can ask anything you like, you know.”

Fjord opens his eyes—he closed them at some point, apparently— and clears his throat. When he still says nothing, Caduceus sighs. The motion of his hands becomes long, soothing strokes, up and down his sides, over his chest, up his arms and down again. It’s soothing, and, at the same time, the rasp of Caduceus’ calluses lights up his skin. He arches into the touch, sucking in a deep breath.

“That’s it, relax for me…” Caduceus murmurs.

It’s hard to look at him, but Fjord manages it, his gaze dragging all the way up the long length of Caduceus’ body on its way to his face, over the shape of his half-hard cock under his loose pants. Fjord’s twitches and fills further. He cannot tell if he wants to twist away and shield himself or spread his legs and offer himself up.

He knows what he wants from Caduceus, though.

“I bet you’d like it,” Fjord offers, “If I put my mouth on you.”

Caduceus blinks at him.

“I’ve been told I’m good at it.” He pushes ahead even as his stomach twists. Instinctively, he yanks at the bonds on his wrists.

One warm hand covers his. “I’m sure. But I can take care of what I want. And we can go as slowly as you need to.”

Fjord _whines_ as Caduceus resumes playing with his nipples, lazily, gently. And still, Caduceus gazes down at him with that impossibly soft smile.

“Please,” he whispers, finally.

“Hmm?”

He can’t do it. If he opens his mouth, he’ll drop dead then and there. He imagines, briefly, falling right through this bed into the core of the earth. Caleb talked about that earlier that day, about theories of molten rock and immense pressure. It sounds about right at the moment.

“I—” he chokes out, “would like to—could I please suck your cock. Please.”

Fjord squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the ground to swallow him whole.

“Oh,” Caduceus strokes his cheek. “Not… _just_ yet, dear. I know, I know, this is hard. Did you change your mind?”

It would be easier to say yes and do away with the whole issue, but he won’t. Instead, he goes still, lays back, and returns his gaze to the ceiling. “Okay. I’ll stay. Just—touch me, please.”

“Okay.”

Caduceus bends to kiss the center of Fjord’s chest over the snarled scar he carries, lingering with his breath tickling his skin. Then he leans down to collect the jar of slick. It’s mostly full; they’ve had other things to do. But the sight of it still makes Fjord shiver. Caduceus’ hand settles warm on his thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth above his knee. A gentle push and Fjord spreads his legs, bends them, digs his heels into the mattress while Caduceus settles between them. He shudders again all the way down his spine.

“You alright there?”

“Yeah—ah—could you?” Fjord clears his throat. “Please, just. Touch me. Don’t stop.”

He touches the scar again, first, and Fjord’s stomach, his hips. With one hand, he reaches down and cups Fjord’s balls just long enough to make him twitch and gasp. Then Caduceus curls his hand loosely around Fjord’s cock. He squeezes once, strokes once, too dry, but so lightly that it still isn’t anything more than a tease. Fjord yanks on the rope cuffs without thinking. A cry punches out of him.

“Shh…” Caduceus pets at his hip. “That’s alright. Lie back for me. How are your wrists?”

He clears his throat. “Fine. I’m fine. Don’t _stop_.”

“I’ve got you.”

Fjord exhales, and his shoulders drop. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on the callused warmth of Caduceus’ hands on his skin until he goes to open the jar. The lid comes off with a pop and clinks against the side of the container on its hinge. Humming softly, Caduceus dips two fingers. He reaches down slowly, not quite touching, and Fjord strains toward him.

Caduceus smiles. “Easy there… Yes?”

“ _Fuck_ …”

“Okay,” he rubs his fingers in slow circles against Fjord’s rim.

It’s hard to relax. Caduceus can see all of him, and when Fjord goes to look away, he stops and waits while he strains and pants. He comes back a moment later, slick fingers rubbing around and around until Fjord clenches and writhes and hides his face against his arm again. He tries to keep his face tipped up, but he cannot quite manage it. Each time he looks away, Caduceus stops and leaves him wanting.

“Help me—” Fjord breathes.

“I’ve got you.” Caduceus leans down, cradling Fjord’s head to his shoulder as he shudders and goes slack. “Oh, there—that’s it.”

Finally, Caduceus slips a finger into him, slow and easy. There’s no pain, no discomfort, only pressure that has Fjord arching to meet it, mouth dropping open on a low groan as his head falls back to the pillow. He gets another finger after a few moments, still slow, still gentle. This time, the stretch makes him suck in a breath. For a moment, he tenses, stomach clenching, and tugs at the ropes around his wrists. Caduceus stops. He runs a warm hand up and down Fjord’s stomach until he exhales and yields just a little more.

With a low hum, Caduceus gathers more of the slick, coating three fingers on one hand and the full palm of the other. Then he holds up that hand in a silent offer.

Fjord would like to think his nod isn’t frantic, but Caduceus has opinions about honesty.

It’s easier with Caduceus stroking his cock in slow counterpoint, easier for him to rock between his searching fingers and work-roughened palm. The slick cuts it down to a delicious drag, almost distracting enough to make him forget the ropes.

Almost.

Two fingers in, Fjord arches taught under Caduceus’ hands, a high, thin whine working its way up his throat. And Caduceus works so _slowly_. Heat prickles under Fjord’s skin until it feels too small, sweat beading on his chest and at his hairline. Caduceus finds his prostate half by accident. When Fjord whines and rocks against his hand, he does it again. He bites his lower lip to muffle his groans. And, softly, Caduceus runs his thumb across Fjord’s mouth. It’s a clear enough message. Still, it makes him flush and tug at his ropes.

“Someone’s going to hear,” he protests.

Caduceus kisses him softly. “They won’t say anything. It’s alright, you can be as quiet or as loud as you want.” Then his mouth finds Fjord’s neck, tongue sweeping over his sweat-beaded skin.

Fjord shudders, tipping his head back. “But you want me to—” He swallows. “Okay.”

There’s a pause while Caduceus gathers more slick. Fjord has enough of it in him that it’s started to trickle down to the sheets, but he can’t bring himself to care at that moment. Caduceus holds him close again, rocking slowly against Fjord’s body in rhythm with the drag and thrust of his fingers. The soft, wet sounds of them and Fjord’s rough gasps fill the space between them and spill out to the rest of the room. His stomach is soft and warm against Fjord’s aching cock. Fjord whines softly and bucks under him.

“Mm?”

“More,” Fjord whispers, “Caduceus, please.”

He gets a third finger as easily as that, the stretch of them sweet and deep. Caduceus curls them and massages until Fjord’s legs tremble, and his stomach twists, and the hot ache of arousal has him making sounds like a wounded thing, shaking with the pleasure of it. The kisses soothe him. Caduceus wanders from his mouth to his cheek to his throat, changing his rhythm to long, steady thrusts up to the last knuckle. Over and over while Fjord clings to the headboard and moans into Caduceus’ shoulder. Then, slowly, he pulls his fingers away.

Fjord cries out, soft and involuntary, and Caduceus kisses his forehead. For a moment, they remain there. Then Fjord clears his throat. “Could I touch you?”

“What do you want to do?”

He wets his lips, draws a breath, holds it, lets it out. “I’d still like to blow you if that’s… I mean. Could I?”

There’s a beat before Caduceus smiles, ears perking up. “Of course. Can you do it from where you are if I come up there?”

“I can. It would be easier kneeling.”

“Hmm. Okay. Be patient for me just a second…”

Caduceus reaches out and, with a tug, undoes the knot holding Fjord’s hands to the headboard. The rope remains securely tied around his wrists. With help, he sits up, leaning against Caduceus’ shoulder. The pillow makes a soft _whompf_ as it lands on the floor. Fjord follows it down a moment later, slowly. Caduceus’ hand never leaves his shoulder, even as he resettles as well, long legs to either side of Fjord’s shoulders, his free arm braced on the mattress behind him. His fingers curl lazily through Fjord’s hair.

Caduceus’ cock is long, hard, and rosy, nested in grey-white curls. Fjord moves in slowly, waiting for a hand to stop him. Then he pauses.

“Is this alright?” he asks, glancing up to Caduceus’ face.

“Go on, dear.”

His cheeks flush, but he does. He bends and kisses Caduceus’s cock, listening to the soft, sweet gasp above him. With bound hands, he cups Caduceus’ balls and then guides his cock to his mouth. He takes the head of it slowly, lapping at it before sealing his lips around it and sucking. It earns him another gasp and Caduceus’ fingers slipping through his hair. Warmth floods up in his chest, and Fjord squeezes his eyes shut with a soft groan. Caduceus’ cock twitches in his mouth, blood-hot and hard over his tongue.

“Oh,” Caduceus breathes. “Oh, that’s nice—take your time.”

Fjord doesn’t _want_ to take his time. He tries, anyway, sucks and swallows and takes Caduceus’ cock down an inch or so at a time. It’s not horribly thick, but it’s _long_ , and he still has to open his mouth wide and breathe carefully through his nose as he works it down. Caduceus groans again, low and shaky, as Fjord takes him into his throat. He holds there for a moment before bobbing his head.

Caduceus’ cock slides in and out of his mouth, heavy on his tongue, salt and musk filling his senses. His hands curl in Fjord’s hair, not gripping, not even _guiding_ , and Fjord wants it so fucking badly his head spins with it, but he cannot make himself pull back long enough to _ask_. He remains on his knees, bound hands braced against the bedframe, all but fucking his own mouth on Caduceus’ length.

He cannot stop his sounds, now, either—hitching, breathless things each time he pulls back, the wet sound of his mouth. He finds he does not care.

Then the hand in his hair tightens, and Caduceus draws him back. Fjord lets out a bereaved, broken sound as Caduceus’ cock slips from his mouth.

“You’re doing so well. Did you change your mind? Is this how you want me to come?”

Fjord shakes his head quickly enough to make it swim.

“Come up here.”

“Do you want me on my back again?” he asks, stumbling to his feet.

Caduceus draws him back up onto the bed. “Not this time. I think… well, we’ve both had enough of that for now.”

Fjord leans into him, looping his arms over Caduceus’ head before leaning in for a kiss. A warm hand smooths up and down his back and over one thigh. Gently, Caduceus gathers him closer. Fjord’s cock rubs up against the hair on Caduceus’s stomach as he settles in his lap. A long shudder runs through him. He presses their foreheads together, the breath shuddering out of him.

“ _Fuck. Me,_ ” Fjord whispers. “Caduceus…”

The kiss he gets is clumsy, Caduceus fumbling beneath him to get his fingers back in the jar of slick. Fjord whines softly, almost tells him to forget it, that they have enough, but he raises himself on his knees. Caduceus’ fingers rub around his hole again, so slick there’s almost no friction, and Fjord moans against his shoulder. His hand lowers, then. Caduceus groans and bucks once into his own fist.

“Okay,” he pants, “I—”

He sounds, Fjord thinks, _nervous_. He tips his head until he catches Caduceus’ mouth in a kiss, slow and gentle as Caduceus shifts beneath him. A soft gasp leaves him as the head of Caduceus’ cock rubs against him. He cannot reach back to help, and so holds himself as still as possible while Caduceus lines himself up. Then he rocks his hips down. The head slips inside him, and both of them catch their breath. Fjord waits a moment before sinking further, brow furrowing and mouth dropping open at the slow-spreading heat. It feels longer than it had in his mouth. Still, Fjord keeps going, groaning at the stretch and the pressure with his face buried in Caduceus’ neck. And Caduceus—he keeps making these soft, punched-out sounds, his whole body trembling as Fjord takes him down a little at a time until he settles, finally, back in his lap.

He holds there, breathing hard, Caduceus’ arms wrapped tight around him.

“I’d—” he manages eventually, “like to move now. Please.”

Caduceus nods, and then groans, low and almost surprised, as Fjord rises again. His hands go vise-tight for just a moment. Then he resumes petting at Fjord’s hips, his back. Fjord gasps as Caduceus squeezes his ass and then moans as he rubs at Fjord’s hole where it’s stretched around his cock.

“Oh,” he breathes, his voice rumbling against Fjord’s chest. “You feel— _oh—_ ”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but Fjord flushes hot anyway. “Stay with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The next time he moves, Caduceus does, too, slow and a little clumsy. Fjord laughs and kisses him. Then Caduceus rocks into him again, and Fjord meets him, and his head falls back on a groan. He raises himself further, next time, and cries out as Caduceus’ cock sends a fresh wave of pleasure rolling up his spine. Fjord has to brace his forearms on Caduceus’ shoulders, bound hands clenched against his back. He keeps moving, listens to the soft, rumbling moans by his ear. Caduceus holds him close, breath hot at his shoulder. Fjord’s cock rubs against his stomach with each long, slow thrust. His toes curl. The pleasure builds slowly, hot, and _hungry,_ and demanding. He keeps moving, ignoring the building burn in his thighs. His cock throbs. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

When he comes, finally, it’s in long waves, each one crackling down his nerves until he sobs and shakes, spilling between them. He grinds down on Caduceus’ cock through the aftershocks, lower lip caught in his teeth. Caduceus’ thrusts up into him twice more before following with a low, cracking groan. For a moment, he remains there with his arms locked around Fjord’s waist. Then he slumps back against the bed. He ends up pulling Fjord with him, squashing his wrists beneath his neck, although Fjord cannot find it in himself to care at the moment.

They lay there as Caduceus slowly softens, and the sweat on their skin begins to dry. Eventually, though, the mess between them begins to dry, as well, and Fjord’s hands start to fall asleep. He levers himself up with Caduceus’ help. Then he flexes his fingers while Caduceus unwinds the ropes and rubs his wrists, the faint flicker of a spell ghosting over his skin, just in case. It removes the faint marks the cuffs left behind, and Fjord sighs quietly. He can keep them next time.

Fjord summons the water from the basin to them rather than getting up to fetch it. It’s indulgent, but the way Caduceus smiles as he runs his fingers through the floating globes of water is infectious. He sends the water out the balcony doors when they are clean again, or clean enough. Then he stretches slowly, stretched out on the mattress.

“Do you want to sleep?” Caduceus asks, rolling to look at him. He still seems entirely awake.

Fjord sighs and shoves himself slowly to his feet, ignoring the twinge in his ass as he wraps the rumpled bedsheet around his waist. “I thought I’d get some air, actually. Join me?”

Caduceus smiles and, together, they make their way out onto the balcony, Fjord dressed only in thin linen, Caduceus naked to the sea breeze. He allows himself a chuckle and checks his sheet just to make sure no one who happens to peer over in their direction gets an eyeful of _him_ , at least. Then he props his elbows on the rail and draws in a deep, slow breath of clean, ocean air. Caduceus settles next to him, one arm around him, warmth at his side.

In front of them, the sea flashes silver in the moonlight, and the sound of the waves hitting the side of the ship mingles with the wind and the snap of canvas and creak of rigging. Softly, Fjord sighs and tips his head so that he can rest it against Caduceus’ shoulder. For a moment, his hand wanders to the scar over his sternum. Then he finds Caduceus’ other hand on the railing and covers it with his.

**Author's Note:**

> The author thrives on comments! 💛💛💛 
> 
> Come and join us on the writing discord, [Haven!](https://discord.gg/WPywUy7)


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